Game of Life
by Bookworm210
Summary: Name? Codi "Codes" Connors. Age? 20. Gender? Female. Hobbies? Complaining about past lives and flipping the bird at the law.
1. Run

**_Game of Life_**

**Summary – **Name? Codi "Codes" Connors. Age? 20. Gender? Female. Hobbies? Complaining about past lives and flipping the bird at the law.

**Chapter One – Run**

…

_"Come on! We have to keep running!"_

_A small, short, dark-skinned girl tugged on the wrist of a pale little boy standing three inches taller than her, making him stumble as he ran. Both their faces were stained with tears, dirt, and blood, wide-eyed and horribly frightened. They had just watched two adults, people they thought were invincible, be killed at the hands of a single man, after all._

_That man was now running after them, gun clutched in his hand and teeth bared. "Brats! You can't run forever!" He bellowed. Shots fired from his weapon, bouncing against the ground inches away from the children's bare feet. The little girl yelped when the boy tackled her, sending them both to the ground. A bullet whizzed over their heads, right past where the girl's head had been seconds before._

_"Th-thanks." The girl stuttered as the boy helped her to her feet. He nodded and they both turned to run once again. Only to be met with the tall fence of an alley blocking their path. The pair whirled to face the man as he slowly advanced, grinning mercilessly. The boy stepped forward, holding an arm in front of the girl, an uncertain bravery displayed on his face._

_"Go away!" His wide eyes glared hatefully. The man barked a laugh. "What're you gonna do, kiddo? Cute me to death?" He asked mockingly, waving the gun. The children shrunk back, though the boy refused to drop the arm in front of the girl. "Lucy, I want you to run." He mumbled over his shoulder. Lucy's own eyes went wider and she furiously shook her head. "No! Just 'cause you're smart doesn't mean you'll live! If you die, then I die too!" She whispered stubbornly._

_The boy opened his mouth to argue, though he'd never get the chance. Lucy's vision drifted to the man's gun, which was pointed at her protector, his finger slowly bending the trigger. She let out a scream, shoving the boy by the back of his shoulders, sending him to the ground as bullets flew._

_It wasn't long until the man was running, gun in hand, out of the alley, leaving the bloodied body of a small dark-skinned girl and a little boy sitting a few feet away with a horrified, disbelieving expression._

_"Lu… Lucy?" He whispered. He slowly got to his knees, crawling toward the broken form of his best friend. "Lucy? Come on… We… We have to go home…" He reached out and gently shook her blood soaked shoulder. No answer. "Lucy? Wake up… Come on Lucy! Wake up!" _

_Nothing._

_Not even a twitch._

_"This isn't funny, Lucy! Wake up! P-Please wake up! Wake up!"_

…

Y'know, there's an old saying that goes down generations from father to son and mother to daughter and mother to son and father to daughter in the Connors family.

If at first you don't succeed, try again a few times. Just to make sure you truly suck and it wasn't just first-time-bad-luck.

Personally I think eleven times is nine times too many. But hey, at least I got to tell my parents that I'd been killed and reborn eleven times in a row. In the five years before I was shot, killed, and left to move on to yet another life while leaving them behind as nothing but memory.

My first life was boring and disciplined. My parents were rich, so that ultimately meant I was rich. I wore little brown plaid skirts, shiny black shoes, white knee socks, a brown headband, and a white blouse every day of my life, until I was finally hit by a car when I was fourteen. Then the white blouse turned red.

My second life was anything _but _disciplined. I went around the block getting screwed by guys I didn't even know the age of, drinking, and smoking. I was killed by a mixture of the three at the crisp age of thirty two.

Third life I was a guy. A really retarded guy. I was caught the first time I attempted murder, and rotted away in prison for the rest of that life until I died around fifty seven.

Fourth life was sorta like my first. Only I wasn't as rich, and I played piano. I was blind as a bat, and wore big, purple, thick-rimmed glasses to help me read the note sheets. One time I was cleaning my glasses while crossing the street and then got ran over—again.

In my fifth life I'm pretty sure I was a lesbian, and a very high supporter of gay rights. That—of course—led to a couple 'popular' girls getting their boyfriends to beat both me and some other gays bad enough that two of us died, including me.

Sixth life was effed up. I was a drunk, and a smoker, like in my second life, but I was also in a gang wanted for a quarter of the percentage of murders and rapes happening in New York. After hacking up a lung and puking all the contents of my stomach, I finally slipped off due to untreated lung cancer.

Seventh was pretty depressing. I made it up to twenty six before my husband died in a car crash and I started remembering everything that happened in my past lives, and so I ended up committing suicide on my thirty first birthday after crying and moping for five years straight.

Eighth life I was—yet again—rich as filth. And then assassinated at eight years old because some bozo wanted my family's money.

Ninth was a little more normal. I was a manga artist—and even managed to publish a volume—before I had a heart attack—ironic considering the story I'm about to tell you—at twenty nine due to stress from all the deadlines.

Tenth I was another guy. Only this time I was a part-time pedophilic teacher instead of a retard rotting away in jail. Yeah, I got all the way up to thirty six until I betrayed the 'only look, never touch' rule and was killed by one of the insane supporters of the rule that I now know really helps pedophiles.

Eleventh… I'd prefer not to talk about it.

Twelfth? Wanted African immigrant criminal holding no name or face except for the title "Phantom Thief." That's where we are now.

"Hey! You! Stop right there!" A loud, commanding—pft—voice yelled. About four more repeated the order, and soon I found myself standing in the back of an alley, surrounded by five cops. They were all sweating and panting, but a really tall and lanky one managed to gasp between wheezes, "We—caught—you! There's—no—escape!"

This could prove to be a problem. I let out a curse under my breath, taking a step back. My purple ankle-length skirt swished around as I pulled a light purple cloth from between my breasts. "Oh, no. There's only one of me, and five of you. What's a girl to do?" I started to fake cry, dabbing my eyes and letting out a sob worth an Oscar. The cops exchanged confused looks, before half of them shrugged and advanced. I glanced up, grinning mentally, took a huge breath, and trumpeted into the cloth, dropping a vial which exploded into red smoke—Esmeralda style.

The cops started screaming and yelling about witchcraft. I jumped onto a crate and grabbed the clothes line hanging above me, swinging over their heads and landing with a small stumble behind them. I bounded out of the alley, skidding around the corner and running through the crowd of pedestrians who shouted profanities and parted so they didn't get knocked to the ground.

I grabbed my skirt and held it up as I ran, glancing over my shoulder. An evil laugh escaped my throat. _Ha! Take that Asians! You ain't getting this chick!_ My bare feet slapped against the concrete as I ran, splashing puddles and jumping car hoods. The golden hoops attached to my ears bounced around with my short black hair. The cops yelled and shouted and ran hot on my heels, but _nope, _I would not have that.

Just when one of them reached out to grab my shoulder, I swung and skidded around a corner, sending him face first into the concrete. "Suckers!" I laughed, as two of them stayed back to see if he was alright. Three down, two to go!

The fourth wasn't hard to loose, since he was short and pudgy. He just gave up, hands over his knees, huffing and wheezing for breath. The fifth was the tall and lanky one, however. _This is gonna get interesting. _

Lanky followed me around corners, over cars, through crowds, and even climbed a fence since the hole I crawled through wasn't big enough for him. One dedicated cop, I'll give him that, but he couldn't last forever.

"Hey! Sir!" I grabbed a passing man's shoulder. He was young, maybe around twenty three, with black hair and big brown eyes and a stupid little grin, wearing a crisp business suit. "Y-Yes?" He yelped, slightly shocked some random lady in practical rags stopped him on the street. "See that man? He's my ex-boyfriend, and he's trying to catch me! Please, hold him off!" I put on my best 'abused-girlfriend-desperate-to-get-away' face, and instantly the guy's chest puffed up in bravery. "Of course!" He nodded quickly and gently shoved me forward. "Run, before he catches up!" I gave a frantic nod and started running again, glancing over my shoulder to see the guy blocking the cop and deep in a heated argument with him.

Pretty soon I was being chased by both the cop _and _the guy, who also turned out to be a cop. Shit. Brown eyes wide, I dived into the street, making a sleek black car with tinted window screech to a stop. I jumped forward and belly-slid across the hood, somersaulting to the ground and bouncing to my feet again.

I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of a hunched form through the windshield.

* * *

**BAM!**

**Credit to Wednesday101 for the plot. Lucy/Codi belongs to me. And OHMAIGAWD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME *cries*  
**

**Review and stay tuned!**

**~ Bookworm210**


	2. Hacker

**_Game of Life_**

**Summary – **Name? Codi "Codes" Connors. Age? 20. Gender? Female. Hobbies? Complaining about past lives and flipping the bird at the law.

**Chapter Two – Hacker**

…

"Mmph! Met fo fof me fou basfard!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, miss."

An old, not unkind voice answered my protests as I was gently—_can you believe that? _They _kidnap me _and have the nerve to act like I'm _delicate_—put into what I think was the back of a car. I was blindfolded and gagged, on top of being handcuffed, and this dude had the nerve to _pat me down _of all things.

Nuh-uh buddy, I don't think so.

The dude shut the car door. Pretty soon I heard another door open and close, meaning he probably got in the driver's side. I jumped up and slammed my head into the car ceiling; maybe I'd knock myself out and he'd take me to the hospital. It wasn't soft and fuzzy like I'd hoped. Instead it was hard metal. I shrieked and shrunk into my seat, letting out several rude and colorful words through the gag.

The dude let out a sigh, and I felt the car start to move. "Please, miss, restrain from injuring yourself." He said in that nice, kinda tired old guy voice. Tch, yeah. Like that'll ever happen. I'm clumsier than an elephant that just saw a mouse.

Oh. Yeah. How I got like this.

…

"Muahahaha, take that! The Phantom Thief lives!" I threw my arms above my head in victory. I'd finally managed to escape Lanky and the Guy-Who-Also-Happened-to-be-a-Cop. No one but the squeaking rats answered my exclamation. I was, after all, in an abandoned factory house with my old, ripped blankets, a book as thick as my fist, a tiny, little box, and a—stolen—laptop.

Chewing my tongue, I fell back onto the old beanbag chair I'd found in the garbage and covered with cleaner blankets, gingerly picking up the book. It was _huge, _even in photo album standards. The brown leather cover was worn and crinkled as I opened it. A large, pink, polka dotted—don't judge—number one greeted me. 'Diana "Dane" Jane Birch,' sat in messily scrawled black ink above the one, and under it was 'Born: June 9th in Paris, France.'

On the second page sat a single picture that took up all the crinkled, yellow space of the paper. It was a pale, little raven-haired girl in a brown plaid skirt, knee socks, black shoes and a white shirt, grinning dopily at the camera with a small black cat in her lap. A woman with long brown hair and a man with short black hair stood behind her, smiling politely. A teenage boy with brown hair knelt on the little girl's right, grinning as dopily as her, while a teenage girl with dyed, electric blue hair stood on the left, arms crossed while she glared at the camera in all her snake-lip-piercing glory.

The third page adorned a ragged, dark purple number two. Above it was 'Jill Ross,' and under was 'Born February 15th in California, America.' The fourth was covered with exactly four, small pictures. One was a blonde girl with short-cropped hair sticking her tongue out at the camera. Another was a dirty blonde woman knelt in a garden, smiling as a big, floppy sun hat shaded her face. The third was in black and white; the same woman from the second picture tucked under the arm of a grinning man. The last was a woman with brown hair, shooting a piece sign at whoever was taking the picture.

The fifth page was a dark yellow number three. Above that was 'William "Will" Stanley' and below was 'Born February 5th in Winchester, England.' The sixth page was like the second; covered with a picture of a tall, black haired man, with his hand on the shoulder of a teenage brown-haired boy. A middle-aged man and woman smiled proudly with their children.

The seventh page was a jade-green four with bubbles sketched inside it. Above was 'Mickel "Ari" Noen,' and below was 'Born March 1st in Vyborg, Denmark.' The eighth page was five pictures. One was a little boy with ginger hair and thick-rimmed, purple glasses grinning and holding an award over his head. The second was of an old couple standing next to a younger couple, all smiling with their arms around each other. The third was of a woman with curly, waist length blonde hair. The fourth was a little boy with mousy blonde hair and a missing tooth in his grin. The fifth was the same boy from the first smiling happily and playing a piano.

The ninth page was a teal-striped five. Above it was 'Rin Tomoka' and under was 'Born April 9th in Tokyo, Japan.' The tenth page was five pictures. The first was a raven-haired Asian girl, smiling and sending a peace sign at the camera. The second was another Asian girl, staring with wide eyes whoever was taking a picture, a fork with a strawberry on it halfway to her mouth. The third was a tall man holding a little girl, both laughing. The fourth was a woman with a swollen stomach, a hand on her baby bump as she smiled warmly at her belly. The last was an old woman, gently holding a bundle of pink blankets.

On the eleventh page was a dully colored green six. The words 'Miraiha "Red" Ashley Davies' was visible at the top of the six in extremely messy handwriting. 'Born: December 8th in New York City, America' was also there, but at the bottom instead of the top. The next page had three pictures that took up nearly the whole page. The first picture showed a short, blonde girl, who was in ragged skinny jeans that were sewed up in many places and had very short hair, shooting at targets with a gun. She stood, smirking at the camera. The second picture showed a tall, tan man with a buzz-cut, and in dark green a short sleeved shirt smiling at the camera. The third picture on the page was of a small boy with brown hair, smiling a grin at the camera that was missing at least three teeth. A tall, lanky man with dark hair and lots of tattoos of dragons, angels, and other things stood next to him.

On page thirteen was a large, purple-blue seven. There was what looked like checkered rain-drops around the seven, so that it looked like it was raining on the page. The words 'Marie Rivera' and 'Born: October 14th in Buena Vista, Mexico' were arranged at the bottom of the page so that the first was above the latter. On the next page there were several pictures, one of a beautiful woman with long, wavy brown hair, tan skin, and big, honey-brown eyes in a colorful orange, purple, and green dress that went down to her ankles. Another of the woman and a tall man with light brown hair and laughing hazel eyes wearing a cross necklace; the two of them were forehead to forehead looking into each other's eyes, and grinning like idiots. The next was of a kind-looking old woman with crinkled, smiling light brown eyes. She had long white hair that was in a braid, and wore a yellow sundress. The last picture was of a woman who looked exactly like the first, except for the clothes and that she had shorter hair, with a small, dark-haired girl with the same eyes and nose as the woman.

On the fifteenth page there was a red and black eight, with the colors arranged so that half of each of the circles that made up the number was a different color. Above it were the words 'Lucia "Juju" Binasco' and 'Born January 20th in Sicily, Italy.' They were arranged the same way as the words on page number thirteen were, only on the top instead of the bottom. On sixteen were four pictures that took up all of the yellowing paper, the first of a little girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes smiling at the camera. The second was of the girl, a woman with the same dark hair, and a blonde man with blue eyes. The next one was of the girl sitting on a pale leather arm-chair that looked much too big for her, holding a small, pink blanket that had a red-faced and squalling baby in it. The small girl holding the baby looked like she had no idea what to do. The last picture was of an old man with a handlebar mustache, sitting in the same arm-chair as the girl in the previous picture was. He was holding the same girl as well, and in the background a teenaged girl in a blue dress made antlers on his head. She was making a funny face, and the old man seemed to have no idea what was going on behind him.

On page seventeen there a violet-colored nine that was scribbled in with writing utensils all around it. At the top were the words 'Aika Kuroshi' and at the bottom was 'Born November 13th in Frankfurt, Germany'. On the next page were three pictures, one of a girl with blonde hair in a low pony-tail and jade green eyes who sat at a desk, drawing a half-finished picture of an anime girl and chewing what you could clearly see was gum. The next picture was of a boy with black hair and closed eyes, giving the girl a surprise kiss on the cheek. You could see that she looked very startled to see his smiling face. The last one was of a smiling couple, one who looked Asian, and one who looked European, three young girls-one black haired and the other two blonde- who all shared their facial features, and two smiling, blue eyed men, who anyone could tell, were twins.

The nineteenth page had a purple—almost black—10 on it, with 'Aaron Smith' and 'Born August 3rd in Nashville, America.' Both of them were at the bottom of the page. On 20 There was only two pictures, a smaller one of a young man who had black hair and hazel eyes, sitting in a tree, and an extremely large one of a couple, both with dark hair, two twin girls with brown hair and hazel eyes, and three small boys with blonde hair, one of which was missing a tooth.

On the twenty first page a cyan eleven was visible. The words 'Lucy "Lu" Jackson' were at the bottom of the page, and 'Born December 3rd in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania' was at the top. On the last page of the album, a picture of a young couple was visible, the woman was dark-skinned with brown eyes, and the man was red-haired with hazel eyes. A few others were visible too, one of a dark-skinned little girl with short, black hair and big hazel eyes with a pale little boy with wild black hair, slouching, pulling his knees up to his chest, and eating cake. They sat on a couch, the girl trying to fix the boy's hair, and failing. The next was of the same two, the little boy was on the couch, napping, and the little girl was sleeping on top of him, squishing and cuddling him at the same time. The third, and last picture, was of the same two children. There was a black and white cat curled up on the boy's head, but he didn't seem to notice, because the girl was kissing him on the cheek, causing his cheeks to tint a light shade of red.

_Bee-beep._

"C'mon baby. Let's find that picture… A-ha!"

The little white cursor slid down the screen as I chewed my lip. This probably wasn't such a good idea, but there was no way I'd let that little sucker slip from my grasp when I was so close to getting it.

A large window popped up with a big red 'X' in the middle. With a few taps of keys and crossed fingers, I watched as it disappeared. _Yes! Top gang in New York paid off. _This happened several more times, and each firewall got harder to break. My hopes got higher with each one I cracked, until a little, rectangular box popped into existence, bold letters saying "Password" above it.

_Shit._

"Aw, what?! Come on!" I whined, throwing my hands in the air. I may have been able to crack firewalls and security systems, but I sucked at figuring out passwords. But this is _that _picture we're talking about… Might as well try. I swallowed quietly and typed as fast as I could.

_Lucy Jackson._

An uncountable amount of windows showed up on the screen with a little Mario Victory song. That was… easy. A little too easy. I uncertainly scrolled through the windows, scanning each file, until I finally found the one I was looking for. With a stupid grin and a double click, I never got to see the picture.

_Bam! _The factory door slammed open with all the force a person could muster. I jumped with a yell, sending the laptop sliding a good four feet away, half-closed. "Shit!" I mumbled, reaching for the electronic, only for a silver cuff to slap around my wrist. I gawked stupidly at it until whoever put it there forcefully pulled my arm behind my back and cuffed my other wrist. "Yo! What the fuck man! I didn't do anything, Jesus F. Christ—mmph!" My words were effectively cut off by a white gag, stuffed in my mouth and tied around the back of my head. The same happened as a blindfold made itself present in my vision. I struggled violently, though all the person did was drag me along with an iron-yet-somehow-careful-grip.

…

And ta-da, here I am. Sitting in the back of some sorta car, blindfolded, gagged and handcuffed, with absolutely no idea where the hell this guy's taking me.

"I 'i'n't 'o any'ing." I grumbled through the gag for about the fifteenth time. Yet again, the dude didn't answer, just continued to drive. This repeated itself for about twenty minutes, until the car finally slowed to a stop and I heard the dude get out. My door was opened, and the dude grabbed my arm, carefully pulling me out and guiding me through a door. Apparently we were the only two wherever we were, because nobody gasped or muttered and I didn't feel any stares.

An elevator dinged, and soon I felt myself going upwards. The dude took the gag out, and I immediately started saying I didn't do anything until I heard a door close. "Can you take off my blindfold now?" I asked dully. But instead of the kind, old guy voice, I was answered with what sounded like a bored English professor.

"Due to necessary precautions, I'm afraid not. Now. Why were you attempting to hack my computer?"

_Woops._

"Oh, pft, ha! That-that was _your _computer? Oh, ha-ha-ha, funny-funny story, ya see, Lucy was my, ah, my little sister, but she died in a, um… a fire! Yeah, a fire, and all our pictures of her were burned. So I figured I'd get them from the Internet… And you are?" I grinned stupidly in an 'I'm-a-horrible-liar-please-don't-kill-me' type of way. But, instead of answering my question, the bored English professor decided to correct me on the death of my past life.

"Lucy's death was due to shots fired exactly three times in the head, twice in the leg, and four times in the chest. If the bullets did not kill her, then loss of blood did." My jaw must have slapped the floor. But did the professor stop there? Of course not. "There are no records of a house fire for Lucy or her family, nor did she have an older sister. I suggest you cooperate and tell the truth, unless you want to be imprisoned for thievery and illegal gain of personal files, Phantom Thief."

_What the ever-living son of a—_ "How the hell do you know who I am, buddy?" I growled. My teeth were bared and I was ready to jump up and swing my hands under my knees like the prisoners did in movies during escape. Then the little bit before that hit me. "Personal files? Just who the fuck are you? Lucy didn't have any brothers, or uncles either, and her daddy's dead, so start talkin' before I shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be walking funny for the rest of your li—"

Memory can be a terrific thing. One moment, you're struggling to figure out why you walked into a room, and the next, you're remembering something from three hours ago, or in this case, 20 years and a reincarnation ago.

"_Oh… _Shit, man, _I thought you died._"

* * *

**Plot (c) Wednesday101**

**Codi/Lucy (c) Me**

**Past lives (c) Both me and Wednesday101**

**Review and stay tuned! (And expect another chapter soon since Wednesday's nagging me to update)**

**~ Bookworm210**


	3. Hunchback

**_Game of Life_**

**Summary – **Name? Codi "Codes" Connors. Age? 23. Gender? Female. Hobbies? Complaining about past lives and flipping the bird at the law.

**Chapter Three – Hunchback**

…

_"You're such a freak!"_

_"Why can't you just be normal for once?"_

_"Nerd!"_

_"Hey! Leave him alone, you bull-headed wart!"_

_Four heads, his included, whipped around to face the small, dark-skinned girl standing about four feet away, big hazel eyes narrowed. The leader of the group of three, a short pudgy boy with army-cut black hair, glared at the small girl. "What're you gonna do about it, gypsy?" He sneered._

_"Jy stom, kikker-faced, idiotiese, walglike, praat siek wrat…" The girl said lowly, clenching her small fists as she stalked toward the three bullies. She stood in front of his downed form, purple skirt swishing around her ankles. He caught sight of a golden hoop identical to the ones hanging from her ears sitting on her left foot. "Jy stom, kikker-face, idiotiese, walglike, praat siek wrat. Jy stom, kikker-face, idiotiese, walglike, praat siek wrat!" She yelled at the top of her lungs._

_The eyes of all three bullies widened as they backed away. "She's cursing us!" Cried the tall one. "Gypsy curses!" The second one yelped. The little girl smirked widely, and finally all three of them turned and ran away. With a curt nod, she turned and held out a hand to him. He eyed it uneasily. "Don't worry, I wasn't cursing them. I was just calling him a dumb, frog-faced, idiotic, nauseating, blithering wart. I'm Lucy!"_

_Lucy grinned dopily as he slowly took her hand. His pale skin was a horrible contrast against her dark complexion. She pulled him up so quickly he was afraid his arm would pop from its socket. "What's your name?" She tilted her head curiously as she let go of his hand, but then gasped dramatically. "Wait, don't tell me! I'll call you… Ryuzaki! After one of my uncles. He was fun." Her grin grew wider and stupider. "Wanna play Disney?"_

_He simply blinked owlishly at her. Ryuzaki… No one had ever given him a nickname before. He liked it._

…

The bored English Professor had no answer for my little realization.

"So… Can you take off the blindfold now? And the handcuffs? My arm fell asleep." I jiggled my elbow a little for emphasis. English Professor must have given some sort of signal to Old Dude, because soon I was rubbing the sore, bright red circles around my wrists. I reached up and fiddled with the blindfold, tongue stuck out in concentration, until I finally got the knot with an 'aha!' of victory.

Damn, it was like someone taking their hand from your eyes to show you a brand new three story mansion complete with butler and limo, all for you. "Alright, now that I'm no longer restrained like a rabid bull, first thing's fist. Hi, I'm Co-_oh shit._" My eyebrows must have shot into my hairline as I gawked stupidly at the sight before me.

There stood the bored English professor who didn't look so much like an English professor but did very much look bored. He was slouching so badly he could have been Quasimodo's cousin, and his big gray eyes were practically swallowed by his pupils, like he'd spent his entire life in a dark room and hadn't seen sunlight once in his life. His long sleeve shirt was a crisp, stainless white, and his bare toes curled and uncurled to scratch each other—something I later made a face at. But _his hair,_ man. _Holy shit_ his _hair._ It was as black as mine, shooting out in every which direction, though the majority of it was held back. It looked like a cat with its fur puffed out to scare off an enemy. He looked like he could've been six foot if he didn't slouch so badly. Damn, did I feel short.

The best part? He was eating fucking _strawberry shortcake._

My mouth opened and closed repeatedly as I tried to find something to say. Three quarters of my brain screamed _act like you don't know him! _I ended up feeling stupid, so I just settled with a nod while my cheeks puffed out. "Alright." I kept nodding, opening my arms and smiling in a 'why-the-fuck-not?' way. "Hunchback kidnapper. I can deal."

Hoh boy. Hooooooooh boy. You know what his response was? Lopping off a piece of cake with his fork, sticking it in his mouth, and chewing it as loud as he could, like he was trying to taunt me with the fact that he got some cake and I didn't. I almost snatched it from his hands and swallowed it whole. Maybe throw the plate on the ground for good measure.

While I was fantasizing about ways to destroy English Professor's precious cake, he was staring at me like I was a lab specimen ready to be dissected.

…

_"Why is your hair so spiky, Ryuzaki?" The voice of a little girl by the name of Lucy drifted around the room. She was on a couch, legs under her as she sat on her feet, trying to flatten the black hair of the boy crouched—yes, crouched—next to her while he ate cake, and failing. Each time she got it to go flat, she would slowly lift her hands, only for it to shoot back to its original position almost comically._

_The boy's parents sneakily managed to get a picture before Lucy threw her hands in the air with a frustrated noise._

_"I don't know." Ryuzaki said through a mouthful of cake. "It's just like that."_

_Lucy grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms, and leaned back in her seat. The old couch groaned slightly under the movement, until she dived forward, lopped the frosting off Ryuzaki's cake with her finger, and leaned back again, contently liking the sugar off her hand as the boy stared at his snack in slight disbelief._

…

"Wait a second… Are you with the cops?" I leaned forward and slammed my hands on the table loudly—a move I would later dub Aizawa Style—eyes narrowed. "'Cause I didn't do anything, bud. I wanna talk to the head guy here. Where is he, huh?" I could practically _hear _the light bulb go off. "Is it L? Isn't he the head guy? Lemme talk to him! C'mon, gimme a computer! I'll track his ass down!"

Apparently that didn't sit too well with English Professor.

He carefully placed the now empty plate on the table between my hands—holding it between his thumb and forefinger like it was the most disgusting piece of used tissue one could ever imagine—stuffed one hand in his pocket and brought the other to his mouth so he could _chew on his thumb. _My first thought?

_What the ever-living fuck. He didn't change at all._

"Watari, please escort our guest to the other room." Old Dude, or Watari, as he was now named, grabbed my shoulder and steered me out a door and into a hall. I only put up a mild struggle and gave a few rude words before he put me in the middle of a bedroom, walked out the door, and _fucking locked it from the outside._

The room was pretty big, with a king-sized bed, a flat screen TV, and a freaking _bathroom _as it was all brought together by the huge window smack in the middle of the wall across from the door. The stupid side of me—the side that was awfully claustrophobic—dared me to jump out the window. That is, until I realized I was on what could only be described as the top floor of a _tall as hell building._ Maybe a hotel… Yeah, probably a hotel. Nobody took a hostage to their house.

Movies. They can ruin you.

…

_"Where's your precious gypsy now, Law—"_

_"Ryuzaki."_

_"What?" The pudgy boy scowled, as if no one ever dared interrupt him. The raven-haired child in front of him stayed quiet for a few moments, normally pronounced slouch worsening with each passing second, hands stuffed in the pockets of his blue jeans. His black hair shrouded his eyes like a thief's hood, mouth set in a regretful and silently angry frown._

_"My name is Ryuzaki."_

_The pudgy boy's scowl deepened. He reached out and shoved the other by the shoulders, sending him to the ground. Ryuzaki made no noise of pain or surprise, simply sat there for a moment. Until he finally swung his leg up and kicked the bully square in the jaw. The boy shrieked and stumbled into his friends, both hands on his injury. His beady black eyes were wide and glaring._

_"You're such a freak! No wonder Lucy left you! Come on guys, let's go find somebody that isn't such a weirdo."_

* * *

**Shorter than the others. Like way shorter. But with tomorrow being Christmas and everything, my brain's just _all over the place _and so I can't really get any ideas to pop into my head. I'll have Wednesday help me with the next chapter. Maybe then it'll be better.**

**So I got a review asking something I think I should explain. Codi does in fact have control of what each life does, but she doesn't know she can control it. Thus resulting in life consistencies just bouncing around everywhere. As the story goes on, she'll slowly start to realize she has control over what she does in each lifetime. (Like when she was Lucy, and how she is now. She unconsciously kept Lucy's personality as she went on through reincarnation.) We will be following the Kira Case as well, from Ukita's death onward.**

**I must warn you guys beforehand. I will be killing L, but not completely. Wednesday and I have a plan. *stupid dopey grin***

**Review and stay tuned!**

**~ Bookworm210**


	4. Surprise

**_Game of Life_**

**Summary – **Name? Codi "Codes" Connors. Age? 23. Gender? Female. Hobbies? Complaining about past lives and flipping the bird at the law.

**Chapter Four – Surprise**

…

It took about an hour, if I counted right, for English Professor to waltz on in the room with hands shoved in his pockets and slouch as horrible as ever.

Of course, he was upside down, considering I was sprawled sideways on the bed with my head hanging off the edge.

English Professor faltered, enormous eyes slightly wider—if that were even possible—before he snapped out of it and gained a dull look. "Well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Can I talk to L? Because seriously, I didn't do anything. I'm just a harmless gypsy who lost her way to Notre Dame."

_Pretty damn lost if you ask me._

_Shut up!_

"You've been rather horribly lost for the past six years, then." English Professor said bluntly as he closed the door behind him. The immediate exclamation of _Rape! _was made by my conscious, though I ignored it as I crossed my arms. "I don't have a map." I spat back.

_Congratulations, you just won the first award for Lamest Answer Ever._

_I told you to shut up!_

"Would you like one?" English Professor gained an innocent—_too _innocent—look as I shot him the Mother of All Death Glares. And trust me. That's one glare you do _not _want to be on the receiving end of. "Now." English Professor heaved himself up onto the chair sitting diagonally from the foot of the bed, his back to me, turned and settled down in a crouch, cupping his knee with one hand and chewing on the thumb of his other hand. "Let's start with your name, shall we?"

"Chewbacca." I uncrossed my arms and let them hover above me, hands hanging limply, an 'I'm-only-grinning-stupidly-because-I-want-to-annoy-you,' look planted on my face. English Professor didn't make one noise of annoyance, however, simply stared at me with his raccoon-owl-eyes.

"I suggest your cooperation. It will make things easier for both of us." He said around his thumb—which was now hooked on his bottom lip as he seemed dissatisfied with nibbling on his nail—with absolutely no emotion whatsoever in his tone. Again with the 'cooperation' shit. I snorted and re-crossed my arms. "Codes Connors. Wait, no, Connors Codes, since apparently Japan decided that it likes to have its names backwards."

Normally I don't give away my name so easily. But hey, maybe some sort of cooperation might convince him to let me go. I could always dye my hair if he decided to sell me out to the cops (that along with the fact Codes was a nickname).

_You know you don't want to leave him again._

_Shut the fuck up already!_

"Why were you attempting to hack my computer?" English Professor went on like I'd never made my little comment. I scowled. "Hey, bud, there was no _attempting _about it, I got access to that shit. Until _somebody _decided to send his _butler _to _kidnap _me." English Professor, of course, was unaffected.

"Watari is not my butler, and he didn't kidnap you." English Professor reached behind him, and in some sort of way that defied the laws of physics, pulled out a thick, leather bound book between his thumb and forefinger. He tossed it with little effort, where it landed open on the bed, and I almost choked on my own spit.

_Oh shit._

Instantly, I shot up and found myself upright as I cringed. Photos of a younger English Professor—and pretty much a younger me—sat on the open page. I felt like a little kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I sat cross-legged, holding one ankle with both hands, and rocked back and forth, biting my lip so hard I think I drew blood.

"Please, explain how you gained possession of those photos, or more precisely, why." English Professor said. His big-ass eyes stared intensely, right past my soul and into my very core. And let me tell you, I felt kinda violated.

"Internet?" I squeaked, yet another 'I'm-a-horrible-liar-please-don't-kill-me' grin on my face. English Professor didn't take that, oh no. He didn't take that all. Instead, he stood so quickly I didn't even see him move, and shoved his wide-eyed face into mine, our noses about two inches from touching. The exclamation of "holy fuck!" left my mouth before I could stop it.

Probably would've hit my head on the ceiling if it weren't so high, too.

"How do you know Lucy?" He demanded. I couldn't help but notice how he said _do _instead of _did, _like the little girl in question was still alive and standing outside the door, intently listening in with a silent snicker at the fact she hadn't been caught yet. I almost snorted at the thought.

"Look buddy. Do and did. Present and tense. There's a difference. She's dead, so ultimately it would be past tense which equals _did._" I placed my hands on his shoulders—ignoring the fact he went as still as an inanimate object—and slowly pushed him away. "Ever hear of something called grammar school? Listen, you've got your secrets and I've got mine. It's a _very _complicated procedure of how I knew Lucy, and I'm not gonna bother trying to explain. Now I'll just be going, thank you for your time and goodbye good sir."

Through that stupid little speech—if you want to call it that—I grabbed the book slowly inched off the bed and toward the door. English Professor stood at the foot at the bed, one hand in his mouth and the other in his pocket, as usual, watching me with and almost childlike curiosity. My hand waved pathetically behind me for the doorknob, before I finally got hold of it and opened the door, scurrying out the tiny crack and slamming it behind me as I took off down the hall. Watari was in the main room, hands folded in front of him patiently. _Is his mustache smiling at me?_

"Yeah so he said I had the all clear to leave so thanks for the ride and I'll just be taking my leave okay thanks bye!" The words rushed out all at once, so poor Watari probably had to take a minute of standing there to figure out what I said as I opened and slammed _that _door and took off running down _that _hall. To my complete and utter relief, no one was on or attempted to get on the elevator my whole ride down to the lobby, where I practically sprinted past the lady at the front desk—who leaned over the surface to stare at me incredulously—and _almost _made it to the door.

Instead, I hit the chest of the last person I wanted to run into. Guy-Who-Just-Happened-To-Be-A-Cop.

_Crap!_

_Oh yeah. Fluent in over twenty different languages of curse words and the best you can come up with to describe the situation is 'crap.' You are a complete and utter genius._

_I thought I told you to shut up!_

"H-Hey, I know you!" He yelped as I stumbled backwards. "Oh, thank God! I've just been kidnapped, but I managed to get away in time! It's this old dude in a butler suit with a mustache and glasses! But no, he's just the henchman! The _real _culprit is this-this-this freaking Quasimodo copycat with gravity—no—_physics_ defying hair and this insane way of sitting! Y'know, he not only kidnapped me, he took my private property!"

At the end of my little ramble I lifted the book and shook it for emphasis as Happened-To-Be-A-Cop stood there and blanched. "Um… Do… Do you mean Ryuzaki?" He asked slowly. My eyes widened and I let out a quiet "_Oh…_"

_Well I'll be damned._

That was certainly an interesting piece of information to gain. Thanks, Guy-Who-Just-So-Happened-To-Be-A-Cop.

It seemed Happened-To-Be-A-Cop suddenly remembered where he knew me from, for he immediately whipped out a pair of handcuffs from _absolutely nowhere _and made a mad swipe for my wrists. I yelped and jumped backwards, digging my fingers into the spine of the leather bound book. Since Happened-To-Be-A-Cop was blocking the door, I couldn't make my miraculous getaway. This meant I was stuck between Cop or Kidnapper.

My chances dived for Kidnapper.

Spinning on my heel, I once again sprinted past the lady at the desk, who let out a small shriek of surprise as Happened-To-Be-A-Cop practically flew after me. Deciding _fuck it, _I dived for the elevator, slamming my fist repeatedly on the button. The doors finally opened with a helpful _ding! _I dived inside and did the same thing for the top floor button as I did for the one before. The door closed _just _as Happened-To-Be-A-Cop reached out to stop them.

I certainly _did not _expect him to _run up the entire thing of stairs do he could catch up with me._

He was sweaty and panting, hair tousled and suit tie wrinkled. But when I made a mad dash for English Professor's door, Happened-To-Be-A-Cop _still _came after me. _Hey, you! With all that energy after running up God knows how many stairs! You're not human!_

I'd just managed to kick the door open when Happened-To-Be-A-Cop tackled me from behind, sending us both crashing into the hotel room. Watari stood next to the door, and the old man casually reached over and shut it like nothing happened. I cursed loudly, wriggling around pitifully, book stuck under my stomach. Happened-To-Be-A-Cop let out a small groan, rubbing his forehead where he'd slammed it on the floor as he sat up. It didn't help he was straddling me while I was lying on my chest like a bound human sacrifice.

"You_ fucking suck! _All of you, _you fucking suck!_"I yelled. My face promptly buried itself in the floor in frustration and slight defeat. "I just wanted a conference with L, _son of a bitch._" My words were muffled by the floor, but clear enough. Happened-To-Be-A-Cop exchanged glances with English Professor—wait, sorry, _Ryuzaki_—who of course was as emotionless as before.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Said Ryuzaki with his mouth full. I looked up to see him devouring a plate of little cakes and candy bits. "And why the Hell not?" I snarled, ignoring Happened-To-Be-A-Cop's gesture of slowly cringing. Ryuzaki nibbled his thumb as his eyes rolled up to the ceiling, like all living entities around him either disappeared or just weren't worth his attention.

He finally came back down with, "You've already received one."

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're just half-asleep and someone's talking to you about something important, but you don't quite process the words until about thirty seconds after? And then you either freak out about it or simply sit there staring blankly at who was talking to you?

The former took control of the situation.

"_Holy fucking shit fuck!_"

* * *

**Merry late Christmas and happy New Year!**

**I probably won't publish until 2014, but granted if my mother lets me keep the computer, I might, let me repeat that, MIGHT be able to publish the fifth (omaigawd my baby's growing ;0;) chapter at midnight sharp.**

**Review and stay tuned!**

**~ Bookworm210**


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